


The Wolves of Winterfell

by Lon_Wolfgood



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/M, Gen, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lon_Wolfgood/pseuds/Lon_Wolfgood
Summary: When Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror, many northern lords were against it. Some fled in exile, others bid their time. And yet one bannerman to the Starks went as far as to cast a curse on the family. When the Wolf and the Dragon join, the curse would be in effect, damning the Starks forever.In the midst of Robert's Rebellion, the three remaining Starks are turned into direwolves unexpectedly and this changes the course of history.





	The Wolves of Winterfell

Catelyn Stark set the letter aside and sighed. The King was sending yet another Maester with more books for Maesters Luwin and Aemon to investigate. It would have been good enough, yet there was more. The King himself would go to Winterfell.

It had been fifteen years since she last saw King Rhaegar Targaryen, when he had escorted her and the Stark siblings to her new home. He had left Lyanna, heavy with child and cursed, and had promised to come back with the cure. But year after year, he had not returned.

Catelyn knew that Queen Elia was likely behind that. She couldn’t imagine that the woman was happy about the King’s interest in the Starks, the family of the woman who bore his bastard son. Even if she was from Dorne, where paramours and bastards were not regarded as negatively as in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, the scandal that had followed Rhaegar and Lyanna’s relationship was enough for the Queen to put an end to the possibility of the relationship continuing.

Thinking of the past inevitably led Catelyn to remember her own struggles. She had been betrothed to Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell. But when his sister had disappeared with the Prince, the brash young Stark had gone to King’s Landing and made threats. With King Aerys being paranoid and prone to violence, the result had been that Brandon and his father, Lord Rickard, had been murdered. When Aerys called for the heads of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, their foster father had called the banners and rebelled against the crown.

The war lasted half a year. It would have ended the Targaryen dynasty, a lot of people agreed, but for one small matter: the Curse of the Starks. It had been completely unknown then, even to the Starks. Howland Reed, his House sworn to the Starks, had been able to enlighten them on the matter, after it happened.

Catelyn remembered when the raven came, from somewhere east of the Riverlands. Jon Arryn had signed the confusing letter saying only that her husband, Eddard Stark, had changed before his eyes as they were marching to the Trident.

It would be half a moon’s turn later that she would see her husband again, by then she was sure she was carrying his child. But when she laid eyes on him, she had been unable to contain a scream. He was no man, but a huge dark direwolf with grey eyes. It had looked at her with a calmness that seemed unnatural in a beast.

A second dark shape had been at his side, his sister Lyanna. Slightly smaller than her brother, with fur a lighter shade of dark brown, her eyes had been the same grey as her brother’s. And she had been pregnant with Prince Rhaegar’s child, which was what had triggered the curse, according to Howland Reed.

The Curse of the Starks had been made when King Torrhen Stark had bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror, nearly three hundred years before. Some Stark bannermen had not agreed with the surrendering of the North; some had fled in exile to Essos, forming a sellsword company, while others had bid their time. One bannerman, in particular, decided to cast a curse at the Starks, that if they ever mixed with the Dragons, then they should be reminded forever of their true selves. No one believed him, or those who did were not heeded. Over time the curse was forgotten...

Until Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark had conceived a child.

From what Catelyn and the Maesters could later recount, it had been at least three moon turns after her own marriage to Eddard Stark, the second eldest Stark male after Brandon.

Her memories shifted towards her firstborn, Robb. How scared she had been, after she was told of the nature of the curse. How disgusted she was at her lord husband, the looming dark beast, never leaving her side, always wanting to sniff at her belly. They had been strangers, back then, and he had been known as the Quiet Wolf, well before the curse had taken place. The sobriquet was even truer after. Ned, as Eddard had always been called, was a quiet shadow that followed her almost everywhere.

When she had birthed Robb, it was the confirmation of all her fears. The babe had been a squirming furry thing, a wolf pup, with dark reddish brown fur. He had squeaked and whined like any newborn pup from the kennels, and she had cried in anguish as the monstrosity was presented to her. She had turned her head away, refusing to hold him, to love him.

She could still remember the way the three adult Stark direwolves had howled during the birthing. That first time had seemed as a horrible omen, the song of monsters announcing the arrival of yet another.

The midwives had been terrified as they presented the pup to her lord husband, letting him sniff at his firstborn. The wet nurse had refused to feed the pup, claiming she was no bitch, and Maester Luwin had tried to urge Catelyn to hold her son. “He is your son, my lady,” he had said, almost in tears. “He might look like a wolf pup, but he is very much human, as is your lord husband. He will need you.”

But Catelyn had not budged, and in the end, it had been Lyanna who had taken Robb, feeding and caring for him. A few moon turns later, she had given birth to her own pup, whom she had named Jon. Jon Snow, for Rhaegar and Lyanna had not been married. The pup had been dark, smaller than Robb at birth. Ned and Benjen had howled, and even Robb had let out a tiny high pitched howl at the birth of his cousin.

For months, Catelyn did her best to avoid the wolves, especially Lyanna. Not only did the female Stark hold her pup, but Catelyn blamed her for all that had happened. She would have been wed to Brandon, and given him real babes, human babes. But as time passed, she felt a terrible ache in her chest, and she would cry for hours in her chambers.

During the nights of the fullest moon, when the curse allowed the Starks to become human for a few hours, she refused to meet the people who were her family. Maester Luwin tried, over and over, to present her with Robb while he was a human babe, but she would not see him. She knew that the next day, he would be a pup again.

Six months after the birth of her son, Catelyn thought she couldn’t take it any longer. She would kill herself, she had decided. She had done her duty, given Lord Stark his heir, and now she could die and be forgotten.

She headed out her chambers, only to be greeted with Lyanna, holding a pup in her jaws. Catelyn’s son. She gently laid her nephew at his mother’s feet, and looked at her with her grey eyes.

Catelyn did her best to ignore the helpless thing on the floor, to not look at him. But when he whined, she instinctively looked down. He was a small, reddish thing. His eyes had still not opened. According to Maester Luwin, the Stark direwolves were humans trapped in beast form, thus they aged as such. Human children had long growth stages, and this reflected in their beast forms.

Robb had whined as his chubby little limbs trembled with every step. He smelled her, she could tell. Once he had reached her feet, he had given a triumphant yip, and Catelyn had reached down and scooped him up, pressing him against her chest. Her whole body shook with her sobbing as she said over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She vaguely remembered Lyanna emitting a soft huff, a murmur of understanding and affection towards her good-sister, and then she had turned and left mother and son to bond.

After that, things had become easier for Catelyn Tully Stark. It took her several moon turns to speak with her lord husband, but they had begun to understand each other. She no longer shunned him in his wolf form, allowing him to accompany her in her daily activities.

After the first year, she felt confident enough to pet him. It had been an unexpected action of affection, she hadn’t been thinking about it, but when he leaned on her hand, she had smiled at him. And she knew then that she loved him.

They would talk, once a month, and over the years they would do more, indeed.

When she was not doing her duty as the Lady of Winterfell, she would go to the godswood, where the Starks resided. She would sit with a book or with letters, and would watch as her son and her nephew played with Benjen and Lyanna. Ned, more often than not, would be patrolling the surroundings of Winterfell, making sure they were all safe.

After the third year, she became heavy with child again. This time, she felt no fear or disgust. Ned would sniff at her belly, and she would pet him.

Lyanna and Benjen were just as curious, but they were respectful and kept their distance. But Robb and Jon would often crawl all over her when she sat in the godswood.

When Sansa had been born, she had smiled and hugged the small creature that was her daughter. Sansa had been tinier than Robb, but her fur had been a lighter shade and she had a white belly.

Arya’s birth, two years later, had been different as well. The creature that came out of her was bigger than Sansa had been, but smaller than Robb. All dark with a white belly as her sister, and loud. She had even let out a tiny growl at Maester Luwin, and they had both chuckled.

When she had presented little Arya to her family, the wolves had become more excited than Catelyn had ever seen them. Jon had let out a loud howl, soon followed by Robb and Ned, and then Lyanna and Benjen had joined. Sansa had sniffed at her sister and yipped.

Two more pups had followed. Brandon, two years after Arya, and Rickon, three years since. Both had been similar in coloring to Robb, but a darker shade. Bran had a white belly and snout, while Rickon’s tail had a white tip.

The ritual howling was something that she had come to love by the time she had Rickon.

Over the years, she would go to the godswood at night and, provided that she was alone with Ned, Catelyn would howl. She remembered how embarrassed she had been the first time. But Ned had looked at her, amusement shining in his wolf eyes, and had thrown back his head to howl along.

She didn’t feel confident enough to howl with the others, it was something intimate that she did with her husband. After that first time, when the next full moon came, he had told her that she was now of the north.

She had started at that. Catelyn had been raised as a Southron lady, to always be polite, always be impeccable.

But by the time Arya had been born, she was far from the young woman who had arrived to Winterfell from the south. She wore simple dresses when not meeting other lords, she sat on the dirt in the godswood often, she ran the household in a way that differed from what she had been taught back at home, regularly eating with the head servants or meeting with northern lords.

She had taken to ride outside Winterfell, accompanying Ned on his daily patrolling of their territory. Sometimes, she would even go with the Stark wolves and household hunters to observe. Ser Rodrick had become her personal guard, and they would share a rabbit or squirrel or duck over a cookfire while they waited for the hunt to end.

During some full moons, she would talk with her good-sister or her good-brother. Lyanna and Benjen were unlike Ned. Lyanna could be loud and wild, so much like Arya it was almost frightening. Benjen was cheerful, but he had times when he was somber, and he was less prone to disregard Ned’s authority.

Lyanna, however, was always the children’s accomplice in every mischief. She was like a child herself, and Catelyn despaired sometimes. But she had come to love all of her family, her pack, with all her heart.

So entranced was she, in remembering the past, that Catelyn did not hear Sansa entering the room. But then again, Sansa had always been quiet, polite, and gentle. She was the only one of the wolves who wore a collar, a beautiful light blue silk ribbon that adorned her neck.

Catelyn smiled at her wolf-daughter. “Hello, my sweet Sansa,” she said.

Sansa sat on her haunches gracefully, and stared at her mother with such a look of annoyance, that Catelyn knew Arya had been pestering her about something. But since the wolves could not speak or communicate while in their beast forms, there was little either of them could do. She trusted Ned to look into the matter himself. Aside from Lyanna and Jon, Ned was the only one who could get Arya to behave.

“I have news that you might enjoy,” Catelyn told her daughter. Sansa’s ears perked up, but she remained perfectly still in her sitting position. “The King is coming to Winterfell, and he brings half the court with him.”

At that, Sansa got up, her tail wagging, and let out a loud happy howl that made her mother chuckle.

“Thankfully, the next full moon will be in a few days, so we will have time to plan. You might want to give me some ideas then,” she said, knowing how much Sansa loved all the things she could rarely participate in. “The King will be visiting the Houses along the way, so they won’t arrive here for another moon’s turn. You may go and tell your siblings about it.”

With an uncharacteristically loud whoop, Sansa turned and bounded out of the room.

Within moments, Catelyn could hear a loud cacophony of yips and howls, as the children learned of the event. With a sigh full of fondness, she began to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> Updated September 29, 2018: Formatting. /end update
> 
> An explanation on my writing: if you see some weird phrasing or mistake, take into consideration that English is not my first language, and that you are absolutely welcome to point out my mistake (it helps me learn!). I've been writing and reading in English for almost two decades, but I still get things wrong, especially since I haven't been writing fiction in a long time. (Also, I hate proof-reading, hahaha!)
> 
> Now, what most readers care about: pairings and plot!
> 
> I'm not even sure which final pairings I want. There's established Ned/Cat, Elia/Rhaegar, and some (past?) Lyanna/Rhaegar.
> 
> I know which won't be here: Sandor/Sansa (though, as you can see in the tags, they will interact!), Jon/Daenerys (doesn't make sense within this story's background, nothing against the pairing), Jon/Sansa (same as before).
> 
> There are two pairings I want to write about, which are somewhat established in this story but generally not written this way in the fandom: Robert/Cersei and Viserys/Daenerys.
> 
> Finally, I'm not fully committed to any particular one, but these days I'm thinking a lot about Jon/Arya. But no promises. I follow the flow of the story here.
> 
> As for the plot, I'm doing something I almost never did in the past: my outline is extremely vague, and I have no idea if things will change as I write them. I'm still not sure about certain important things that will come soon.
> 
> Another thing, specifically from this chapter and for future reference: there is no bestiality in this story. I personally don't really care either way, since it's fiction. If you like it, you can think it happens, but for the sake of the story and character development, I'm not going to dive into that topic. Ned and Cat have one night every month to be together as humans, so that's it.
> 
> Ok, if you read all this, have a cookie. I'll try not to annoy you with these long-ass notes. :)


End file.
